Just When
by Face the Wheel
Summary: Chapter 6--That was fast, huh! Anderson takes the bait, and he might just end up paying the price.
1. Just When

            Being a rather stoic man at heart, Anderson was not moved by the gorgeous sunset that pierced the usual gloom of the London sky.  Likewise, the shriek of the monster who's skull he was crushing under his heel did not impress him, at least, not until the satisfying wet crunch and spill of thick red brought a manic grin to his face.  Another job complete, another soul freed, and the sun hadn't even gone down yet.  He kicked at the pile of dust that now lay at his feet and gave it a rather bored "hmph" before lifting his blades from where the vampire's chest had been, whispering a prayer of thanks, and returning them to the recesses of his coat.  
            He'd been here at least half a day and was quite surprised the Hellsing bitch wasn't up his ass yet, and that none of the organization had shown up to deal with the vampire and ghouls he'd just laid to rest. Maybe they were falling behind, loosing track of their own city. The thought made the Paladin smirk to himself as he ducked into the doorway of a brightly lit pub and quietly sat himself down at a corner table.  A quick meal and two pints later he was relaxed enough to slouch lazily in his chair and watch the Saturday night crowd start to file in.  No one was particularly interesting.  Anderson pulled a few rumpled pound notes out of his pocket and dropped them on the table as he stood to leave. 

             "Going already, Father?"  Came the velvety tones of the man one table over.  The Paladin had failed to notice him before.  It was that damned monster that called itself Alucard, dressed in some ridiculous looking suit with his hair slicked back.  He'd probably just appeared there out of nowhere, as was his habit.  Anderson grinned at him fiercely  "So, you people are keeping up on things. I was starting to wonder. You're a little late, vampire, I've already taken care of the problem."  The creature chuckled and waxed sarcastic through his grinning mouth  "Was there a problem? I wasn't aware."  He shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over his knee, and leaned across the table on his arm.  "You fought magnificently, Catholic, as usual."  

Anderson dropped back into his chair growled at him  "If you were there, why didn't you come out and face me?"  The monster smirked and looked over the rim of his glasses  "You knew I was there. Why didn't you ask me to?"

            "I knew no such thing, monster!" the Paladin hissed back, clenching his fists on the tabletop.  Alucard laughed outright and shifted again, this time to a more relaxed position, legs stretched out in front of him, one arm thrown over the back of his chair. Was that a cigarette in his other hand?  "Now, Father, no need to loose your temper.  I was only referring to that slight twinge you get in the roof of your mouth whenever you're around one of us.  It didn't go away even after you killed that vampire, did it."  Anderson gave the creature a disgusted look  "It's not something I pay much attention to, being as it also happens when I'm tired, or hungry, or've eaten too much Italian food.  What do you want?"

            "I've been instructed to make sure you don't over step your bounds in this country." the vampire grinned  "And though you've taken care of the Greek vampire, I hope you don't plan on leaving just yet."

            "Not now that I have the chance to rid the world of your filth."

            "Patience is a virtue, Judas priest. Let's get away from all of these people first." 

The vampire stood and strode toward the door, hands in his pockets, expecting the priest to follow.


	2. Out of Ammunition

            Author's notes:  Because I didn't stick them onto the first chapter. One, I make this stuff up as I go. Two: I, of course, do not own Hellsing or Hellsing characters. I ~do own this story, and still a small fraction of my immortal soul. 

            It had started to rain half an hour ago and both men were already soaked through.  Anderson fell hard against the brick wall of a building, bracing himself against it with his shoulder. He gritted his teeth and panted for air as the torn flesh of his chest knitted itself back together painfully.  With the wet, his jacket was getting heavy and slowing up his motions so he stripped it off angrily and pushed himself off the wall. This was not going as well as he'd imagined, and quite frankly, it was getting ridiculous.  They'd been at this for a good hour now, each landing devastating blows to the other, waiting for the recovery and attacking again, neither giving any ground.  The Paladin raised his arms and charged the vampire again.

            Alucard was faring little better, the priest's seals blocked his more formidable darker powers and he was nearly out of ammunition. He fired another four rounds into the other man's chest and face just before his arm was cleaved free from his shoulder.  He stepped aside and let the Paladin fall on his face on the pavement and then sat down upon the stoop of the derelict building who's lot they were using.  

"You _are_ fun, Catholic, but this is going nowhere.  I appear to be out of bullets and you, well, you can barely stand on your own."  He chuckled.  Anderson forced his hands under his chest and pushed himself up with a growl.  "I can stand just fine."  He got to his feet; arms hanging at his sides, blades clutched loosely in his hands "Get up."

 Alucard looked up at him with his usual arrogant grin, his once well-groomed hair now a mass of wild black tendrils.  "Wouldn't you rather wait until your left eye comes back, Father?"  The vampire produced and lit a cigarette as his severed arm rejoined with the rest of his body.  Anderson fairly roared at him and lashed out, lodging both his blades in the creature's chest  "Get up! Get up, now!"

            "If I knew you were going to be so persistent, I would have brought more ammunition."  Alucard got to his feet, pulling the blades free of his body and throwing them away from himself with some force into a fenced and vacant lot across the way.  Anderson struck out again, sinking two blades into the vampire's back and forcing them all the way through his body with a guttural and forced laugh.  Alucard grunted in response turned, grabbing the man by his shoulders and jerked him toward himself with a snarl.  The priest struggled against the monster with some surprise as his own blades were driven into his chest, pinning them together and bringing him face to face with his hated foe.

            Alucard's eyes burned into him and his grin had disappeared "You're tired, Father. I suggest you go home now and come back to continue this when you have your strength."

            "I swore I would kill you last time we met."  Anderson panted and tried to push the other man away, but his depleted strength was useless against vampiric stamina.  Alucard had him like a vice.  "Let me go."  Green eyes smoldered behind his glasses.

            "So you can kill me?  And what will you do then? Go home to your orphanage and read your boys a bedtime story?" the vampire laughed again "Is that really what you want, Paladin?"

            "When you're out of the way, I'll move on to my next assignment! Until all of your filthy kind is wiped from the face of the earth!" Anderson increased his struggle, still useless but unrelenting. Alucard sneered and shoved the man backward, pulled the blades from his back and flung them at the priest.

            "I admire your determination, but you're on the point of madness. Go home, Judas priest."  The vampire stepped backward into the shadows and faded.  Anderson scrambled to his feet and grabbed his blades, rushing forward and slashing wildly at the empty space where his enemy had been .

            "God damn you, Alucard! You bastard, come back and fight me!" he screamed and cut at the air, his blade coming into contact with the brick of the old building and splintering in his grasp, the shards flying back into his face.  He screamed again and dropped to his knees, clawing at the bleeding mess of his features.


	3. Invitation

            Chapter three notes: I still don't own Hellsing and I had to sell my soul for money to buy cigarettes and Ramen… Enjoy!

Anderson had been brooding in near silence for the better part of a week since his last encounter with the Hellsing pet vampire.  He was stricter than usual with the boys at Saint Sebastian's orphanage, enforcing an early curfew with threats of time spent in Cardinal Nachtmann's office writing reports on the influence of the Church within modern Roman society and its effect on the overall economy of the City State.  With these new terms in place, he would retire to the windowless 12x12 room that had been his home for the last fifty years or so and pour over his books and articles and the files he'd gleaned from the Vatican Archives. There must be something here that could help, some clue, some weakness noted and overlooked, that would lead to the defeat of the monster Alucard. He was obsessed. More than usual. And Father Maxwell was taking notice.

"I find your lack of concentration on other matters quite disconcerting, Paladin Anderson. This…interest you are taking in the Hellsing Organization's chief agent is becoming unhealthy.  Granted, they have been the major concern of Iscariot, but with their recent near-obliteration, they hardly pose a threat at the present time."

"Would you have me ignore the creature, Enrico? Isn't it my job to destroy all vampires?  It is the most powerful thing we've come up against in more than thirty years—since before you were born.  I daresay since before World War II.  Do you want that sort of evil lurking about unchecked?"  Anderson raised an eyebrow at the other man, challenging him.

"We do have other concerns, Alexander."

"And other agents to handle them.  Whatever it is, send Heinkel and Yumiko."

Enrico Maxwell flexed his jaw, seething at his lack of control over his supposed puppet and clenched a fist briefly.

"Very well, Anderson. But should you return to England without the grant of Section XIII, you will have no alliance and no immunity against any actions Hellsing takes against you, legal or otherwise.  That is to say, Father, you will be on your own."

It felt a bit…inappropriate not to be dressed in the usual garments of his station, but Anderson was quite at ease in "civilian" clothing, trying to remain somewhat inconspicuous among the crowds of London.  Of course, being seven foot three didn't help that at all, and he was certain Hellsing was already aware of his presence here.  He'd taken up residence in a cheap hotel with a single duffle of clothing and toiletries and what little money he'd come up with before leaving home.  He realized how convenient it'd been to have the Vatican's funds to back him up on his missions before.  

Activity here was slow, it seemed.  No vampires to fight, no Freaks…just the Hellsings and their aggravating state of dormancy.  If he were going to face Alucard, he'd have to go out and find the thing himself.  The pubs seemed as good a place as any to start, and a few hours later he found himself stumbling through dark, wet alleyways, lost and looking for his hotel with nothing better to show for than a minor drunken brawl at some tavern or other.  Damned vampires. Damned Hellsing Organization, damned Vatican and Section XIII and their bloody experiments.  Damned toothache…  He tongued the roof of his mouth and then paused and lifted his head.  Something dark and red-tinted swam into his shaky vision.

"Well. So there you are after all, monster."  He grinned and blinked slowly, dropping forward against a wall as his head swam.  "It's about time you showed up, but damnit, now I'm too drunk to fight. Come back tomorrow."

The vampire grinned back, hands thrust into his pockets.

"I hadn't imagined you could get drunk, Father. Amusing.  And what's to stop me from filling your braincase with lead just to see if two clips full will keep you down for good?"

Anderson blinked and thought hard a moment.  "It wouldn't be any fun for you that way."  He laughed  "And I know how much you enjoy your little challenges.  Of course, I could sober up like I heal a wound if I wanted, but that'd be a waste of the money I paid to get drunk in the first place."

Alucard strode forward, a fluid, graceful motion that seemed to require little or no effort from his legs, his mouth all fangs and smiles.

"I couldn't persuade you?  You are so much fun and I'm rather bored.  Look, I've even brought extra ammunition…" he parted one side of his ridiculous red coat to show a row of clips secured in the lining.  "Just for you."  

The vampire grinned again and reached a hand out toward the priest. It was slapped away before it got anywhere near him and he was met with the smoldering emerald glare of the blond man, suddenly clear-eyed and sober, one corner of his mouth turned down in a vicious display of disgust.  Anderson stood up straight and took half a step back, giving himself room to maneuver should he need to do so.

"My, what interesting attire you've come along with this time, Catholic.  Where are your Holy garments?  The uniform of your Devine Army? In a word, your costume."

The creature Alucard chuckled softly to himself, casually producing one of his handguns—the Jackal, Anderson noted—and checking the clip. 

 He didn't bother to look up when the other man growled and lashed out with an inexplicably produced blade, instead he merely shifted himself somehow, without moving, out of the way.  The silver blade sang out as it came into contact with the alley wall and then scraped shrilly against it when it was drawn back.  Anderson spat toward the vampire and huffed.

"You're one to talk of costumes, with that flamboyant greatcoat of yours.  Hmph. Does your master—or is it mistress—approve of you nancing about making a bloody show of yourself in that thing?" he sneered, blades hanging loosely at his sides.  "Hellsing hardly needs more attention drawn to itself in its present state."

Alucard raised his gun and fired one round directly into the Paladin's leering face, sending him onto his back with a gurgled grunt. He waited for the man to recover and get back up on his feet.

"Shall we continue this, Father, or are you quite over your fit of madness?  But then, that's how they made you, isn't it.  Sic Evil, boy."  The creature laughed  "Yours isn't to question or decide, only to do as your told. Am I right?"

The priest ground his teeth together almost audibly and lurched forward. He halted in his motions as an electronic rendition of  "Salve Regina" sang out from the pocket of his jeans.  He growled, annoyed, and fumbled for his cell phone.  Alucard smirked, and after a short, barked conversation in Italian with whomever was on the other end, Anderson shoved the little device back into his pocket and grumbled.

"For being on my own here, the Vatican certainly seems to be keeping quite close tabs on me." He muttered.

"Oh, don't tell me you're not allowed to play, Paladin." The vampire hummed out that annoying, condescending chuckle that made Anderson want to shove a fist through the thing's chest and pull his windpipe out down through the hole. He gritted his teeth.

"I do as I please, monster."

"Of course you do.  Dinner perhaps?  I know you need all that food to keep you going." 

Alucard returned his gun to wherever he'd gotten it from in the first place and replaced it with a lit cigarette somehow.  He stuffed his hands into his pockets and left the cigarette hanging loosely in his lips, curling smoke up about his features, eyes half-lidded. He turned to make his way back up the alley.

"Well?" he asked and looked over his shoulder.  "Don't tell me you're not hungry, I know better. You didn't eat with all that alcohol you had…but then, you don't get sick, do you. Human."  Again he hummed that damnable chuckle as Anderson reluctantly and wordlessly followed.


	4. Obsession

The setting was a rather more intimate than Anderson would ever have liked. A small table against the west wall of the little restaurant dimly lit with one of those candles that come in the red frosted glass holders. Alucard lounged in one chair with his cigarette hanging from his lips; garnet hued eyes focused intensely on the man across from him. Anderson sat stiffly, ignoring the vampire as much as was possible as he bent over his plate and focused his attention on the glazed salmon. Alucard leaned forward on his elbows.  
  
"Something troubling you, Father? I hope I'm not.distressing your digestion." He grinned as curl of smoke floated up from the burning end of his cigarette and haloed itself about the priest's unkempt golden hair. Anderson looked up and growled, fanning away the gray white cloud with a gesture of his gloved hand.  
  
"This is ridiculous. What do you want, Alucard? I'm sick of your games."  
  
"Oh, is that why you came all the way from Rome without the protection of your little organization? To tell me you were done with me?" the creature smirked and Anderson glowered.  
  
"How do you-of course." The monster had overheard Father Maxwell when he'd called in the alleyway. Anderson had been ordered to come back to Rome immediately. Seemed there was an issue concerning the last few files he'd returned-or rather didn't-to the Vatican archives. Stealing property of the Holy Church was a serious offense, and this was Anderson's third infraction on that count.  
  
"Well, Father? Will you jump at your master's orders?" The vampire stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray at the center of the table and leaned back in his chair, resting a booted foot on the tabletop.  
  
"Unlike you, monster," he spat the word "I don't answer to a human master. I serve God and the Church only." He jabbed viciously at the salmon with his fork and stuffed the morsel into his mouth. "And I have no intention of leaving here until I finish what I came to do." Alucard's mouth split and a harsh, humorless laugh hissed out passed rows of shark-like teeth.  
  
"You're going to be here for some time then, Catholic. You should know that I can only be destroyed by a man true in faith." Anderson slammed his fist down on the table, eliciting startled glances from the other patrons in the restaurant.  
  
"You doubt my faith, heathen?" he leaned over the table and grabbed the vampire's coat front, twisting it in his fist. Alucard looked quite shocked for a moment, and then settled into his usual self-assured smirk.  
  
"Of course not, Father. I can see your devotion is unyielding." He laughed "But you are no mere man."  
  
Anderson's jaw flexed, and he released his grip on the vampire, falling heavily back into his chair. Alucard had stumbled upon something that had been troubling the priest for years, but of which he hadn't thought for some time. He sat silent, lost in his thoughts for only a short while before Alucard's dark velvet chuckle drifted to his ears.  
  
"Paladin. Champion of the Order. God's Devine Hand.. Vagrant knight." Alucard grinned at Anderson's reaction to the last "Yes, vagrant. You call that twelve-by-twelve windowless room a home, Father Anderson? You've never felt at home in the Vatican anyway, have you. Wandering over the world, dispatching whom or whatever you're told to. You're nothing more than zealous hired killer. A drifter who murders in the name of the Church. In word, Alexander. Catholic." The monster grinned and stood from the table. "Of course, you could always come home with me." He laughed as he walked away, tossing his glasses over his shoulder and landing them on the table in front of the priest. Anderson watched him go, then gritted his teeth and crushed the spectacles in his fist.  
  
He sat on the bed in his hotel room, lent over, arms resting on his knees, eyes staring focused somewhere at the space between himself and the floor. He could go to Hellsing Manor, root out the demon in its own home.Yes, and get rid of Sir Integra at the same time.restore his Order's faith in him. The looks he'd gotten after having faced Alucard three times and failing to destroy him. Section XIII's most capable agent, never before had a target escaped his Devine Fury; now he could not even destroy a single vampire. An arrogant, sneering, sarcastic, self righteous monster! It disgusted Anderson that Alucard took such pride in what he was. It was a perversion, a slap in the face of God. He would give anything to cut out that beast's sharp tongue and take it back to Rome to present to Father Maxwell in a small silver chest. It would earn him a curt nod of approval. Anything-anything-to relieve the disappointment, the threatening tone that he'd received after his second encounter with that vampire, when he'd come back to Rome missing both his arms and a good bit of his sanity. Enrico hadn't even bothered to look up at him, but the utter disgust he felt was quite apparent in his voice and his veiled threats.  
"Father Anderson, the Vatican cannot afford to.keep you employed if you continue to incur such dire losses. You are here for the very specific purpose of handling these exact problems and, well, the costs of keeping you in operable condition are quite inflated of late. If you cannot prove yourself against this single agent of Satan, your.expenditures will be terminated. We expect more satisfactory results from you in the future." The message was clear-Get the job done or face destruction.  
He was an expensive tool, and a dangerous one; if he could not perform his functions, he would be summarily destroyed to prevent his rather unique gifts from falling into the wrong hands, and to stifle any possible retaliation on his own part. Anderson never fooled himself about that. This is why the Vatican wanted him to return immediately. They were afraid! Worried he might decide to stay in London, or worse, join the Hellsing Organization. As though he would even consider such a ludicrous notion! No, he would kill Alucard and piss on his ashes, then return home with his reputation restored. So he sat, in his hotel room, lost in his obsessions. 


	5. At the Gates

Warning! Hellsing isn't mine, my soul is gone, and I'm out of cigars and I HATE Seras. ____________________________________________________________________  
  
The sound of his phone ringing snapped him out of his revere and he fumbled to get it out of his pocket before his voicemail answered it for him. He didn't recognize the number on the caller ID, though he answered anyway.  
"Anderson" He grunted into the phone.  
"Hello, Father. I just thought you might like to know that my offer still stands." The voice on the other end of the line made the priest clench his hand reflexively, and the plastic casing of the cell phone cracked a bit. It was him of course. That damned monster.  
"How the fuck did you get this number, demon!" he demanded, growling.  
  
The voice laughed "Such language is unbefitting of a man of the cloth, wouldn't you say? And I didn't get the number. You're only talking to yourself. Your little toy isn't even on." Alucard's muted voice laughed again and Anderson pulled the phone away from his ear. The little digital display was blank. He pressed the power button and the phone lit up-rotating slowly on the screen was that familiar group of symboling that made up Alucard's seal. Got Mit Uns. Said the greeting. Anderson howled, enraged and flung the device against the far wall, shattering it, bits of green and gold electronic plastic rained for a moment and scattered on the floor.  
Alucard laughed again, in the same muted tone, inside of Anderson's head. "Father Maxwell won't be happy about that." It said. The priest pressed his hands to the sides of his head and stood up, feeling dizzy and bewildered. "Where are you!" his voice sounded ragged and desperate in his own ears. He felt hot breath on the back of his neck and spun to face his assailant-no one leered back at him. Now it was at his ear, it raised the hair on the back of his neck and froze him in place.  
"Everywhere." It breathed into his ear and hissed and raised itself into a harsh laugh that stabbed into the Paladin's brain, reverberating in his skull in an endless, unfathomable echo that made his sensitive ears ring. The laugh became more maniacal, rising in pitch to a silent, maddened howling scream. Anderson grabbed at his head and cried out weakly in pain as he sank to his knees. This was the sound of a mind fracturing, of a man going insane-Alucard was trying to destroy him in another fashion altogether.  
In desperation, he fumbled in his coat, blinded and numbed with the engulfing pain in his head, and pulled out a leaf of parchment and a silver- bladed knife. He stuck the paper on the end of the blade with badly shaking hands as he muttered incoherently, then drove the blade into his own chest, pinning the protective seal there. The screaming torture ceased immediately and left him shaking and panting until he'd sufficiently regained his wits.  
He pulled the knife out of his chest and let it drop to the floor with an exhausted grunt. After the wound had stitched itself, he bent his head down and prayed.  
  
Anderson checked out of the hotel the following morning and spent the day in the pubs until the sun had set. He had been slowly making his way toward Hellsing Manor; he wanted to give Alucard time to know he was coming. This would be the last time, he decided. If he could not kill the creature, then he would at least fight to his own death. Better that than to be euthanised in the Vatican labs like some sick, unwanted dog. The manor might prove a challenge, according to the last reports he'd read, the Hellsing membership had grown significantly, with an estimated 130 troops on active duty. Then there were the "special forces" to deal with. The female vampire and that damned butler-he'd read profiles on the supposed Angel of Death, but he was unsure of the true extent of the old man's ability. But, with them out of the way, he would be free to deal with Alucard and that Protestant bitch, Integra Hellsing without any subsequent interference. Anderson let his anger seethe and soak into himself slowly, cooling from rage to useful, hateful determination. His hand curled around the bent and broken frames of Alucard's glasses, still in his coat pocket from their encounter last night, and he crushed them just a bit more, finished his pint, and stood to be on his way again.  
  
Alucard was waiting for him at the gates to the Hellsing mansion, red coat shoved back from his waist by his hands, tucked securely into his trouser pockets. He hadn't bothered with hat or glasses, and the wind whipped and played with the writhing black mass of his hair. A very slight smirk played at his lips. "So you've decided to accept my offer after all, Paladin? Shall I then say 'welcome home'?" The vampire stepped aside, making Anderson's path to the gates clear. The priest did not move, but kept the three meter distance between them, his arms thrust down stiffly at his sides, a blade between each finger. His lips moved in silent prayer. The monster finally broke their silence "Well, Catholic? What's the matter, can't make up your mind?" He grinned. "Shut your bastard gob, vampire." Anderson's voice had become unsteady, a think mask of calm overlaying his desperation. He lifted his arms in preparation for a charge. Alucard leaned against the stone brace of the gate, hands still in his pockets. "So. You came here to die, then. How pathetic. Your sad little existence will have meant nothing. No one will lament your passing and apart from a file locked in the belly of your precious Vatican, you will be forgotten. Just like the maggot vampires you destroyed. And where will your life be filed away, Father? Under "man" or "monster"?"  
"One way or another, we're going to finish this. Stand up and fight me, damn you, or I'll-" The lanky priest narrowed his eyes and lowered his arms slowly, he would not be goaded into a rash charge. This whole affair was infuriating him! He had never taken his work so utterly personally, and it was defiantly interfering with his judgment. Alucard's smirking, face and impassive tone wormed their way into his brain and sat, gnawing at his resolve. He merely growled and stood waiting again.  
  
Alucard laughed. "I see you've learned patience, Paladin." The vampire pulled one hand out of his pocket and pushed it through his misbehaving hair as he uncrossed his ankles and stood up from the wall. "Still, there's quite a lot more to be taught." 


	6. The Beast of London

Attention!  Hellsing still isn't mine. *Shakes fist* I quit smoking, and I still hate Seras.

            Hellsing Manor was eerily quiet, and footsteps echoed thunderously as they stalked through the halls.  So, this was the enemy stronghold.  Impressive as a museum, but he could see how the so called Valentine Brothers had so easily breached the mansion's defenses.  The few men at various points in the great house turned their heads and stared, then whispered to eachother and clipped radio exchanges were made as Anderson followed his Red nemesis deeper into the headquarters of the Hellsing Organization.  By now, everyone must know he was here, and he noticed as they moved on that the numbers and attentiveness of the troops increased.  He tightened his grip on the single blade in his right hand reflexively.  

As they rounded a corner, Anderson spotted the little female vampire.  She raised a hand to her mouth and backed herself against the nearest wall as the priest sneered at her.  Anderson purposefully took a few advancing strides toward her, raising his fortified hand, though before he could bring it down, if in fact that was what he intended, two bullets ripped through his shoulder and side and he dropped his blade, turning to growl at Alucard, who still had his weapon raised and ready.  All of the surrounding troops had also raised their rifles and handguns and trained them on the Paladin, and he decided, wisely, to stand still.  

The damned vampire gave an amused and condescending grunt and replaced his own gun into the recesses of his garish coat.   "Now, Father Anderson, you wouldn't want to abuse our hospitality, would you?"  He grinned, flashing sharp, white teeth and waited for the blond man to return to his side as the armed men around them went back to whatever they were doing before, and miss Seras Victoria ran off down a darkened corridor, shaken.

"Just where is it we're going?" Anderson grumbled, stalking beside the vampire king, stiff-armed and head lowered predatorily.  The further along they got, the more convinced the priest was that this was some sort of labyrinth—and Alucard was it's resident Minotaur.  The Beast of London, he thought dourly, and harrumphed quietly to himself.

"Down."  Alucard answered simply, and Anderson realized that the floor had been slanting downward slightly for some ways, and now they came to a dank and moldering staircase, cool air rose from its black nothingness, and smelled of dark, wet stone, like a cave.  The cleric raised a whitish eyebrow and tossed a sideways glance to his host, the image slightly skewed at the edge of his glasses.

"You don't really think I'm that stupid, do you, vampire?  That I'd follow you down into the depths of this maze to your own lair?"  He produced a pair of blades and stepped back from the edge of the staircase, facing Alucard.

A cigarette appeared in the black haired man's hand and he brought to his own lips, lighting it somehow.  The little stick gave off a burning glow and smoke churned up from its end, making faint unnatural shapes in the black air between them.  

"You're free to do as you like, Catholic. But without an escort, you'll have to fight your way out of here." He grinned and pointed up "One hundred men, plus our elite membership.  I doubt even you could handle that in your current state."  The vampire reached into his coat and Anderson tensed only to find a pack of cigarettes pulled out instead of the Jackal.  

Sweat beaded on the priest's forehead as his enemy laughed and offered him a smoke. He stared at the cigarette and shook his head grimly.

"What 'state' is that, then?"

"You're obviously tired."  Alucard replaced the pack of cigarettes into his pocket and smirked, taking another drag on his own smoke. "And paranoid, I'd say."

Anderson growled and thrust out with his arm, shoving a blade through the vampire's throat, causing him to choke a bit and give a gurgled grunt, which he repeated as the blade was pulled out again. 

The priest grinned.  "I may be a bit tired, vampire, but I haven't let my guard down."  He gave a high kick, landing his thick booted foot into the monster's chest, and shoved with his leg.  Alucard went backward down the stair case, looking a bit surprised, rolling halfway down and rising to his feet with something approaching a growl. Now Anderson smirked.

"Well, so it seems you do have a temper after all." He laughed and stepped back from the stairs again as Alucard climbed them and stepped up level to him.  This was excellent.  Anderson had just managed to bring the monster and himself back onto a level playing field. Or battlefield as the case may be.  Now it was just a matter of finding what goaded the creature—other than a bit of embarrassment.  He stowed his blades again and crossed his arms, the emerald fire sparked back to life in his eyes as he laughed again.  Alucard dusted himself off and smirked back with a single breathy chuckle.

"You managed to surprise me yet again, Father.  You have my word"  he thrust his hands back into his pockets and turned his back on the priest, looking over his shoulder in that familiar are-you-coming-or-not fashion  "that I'm not leading you to your death at this moment.  Unless you choose death down here, of course."  The vampire started down the stairs and seemed to dissipate into the darkness beyond Anderson's vision.

Ha! The word of a vampire? What good is that? And yet he followed, again, tailing behind his most worthy rival into the bowels of Hellsing Manor.  Tiled floors and painted slab walls gave way to crumbling mortar and cracked flagstone, the wet, limestone cave smell grew stronger.  Small dark rooms branched off from the hall they were in, mostly empty, some with broken crates, chairs, rusted steamer trunks and other various things scattered about.  Anderson's senses were alert, he was nervous—maybe the vampire was right and he was getting paranoid.  No, stupid to think that. He was merely ready for the fight, anxious to get this over with and get out of here, back upstairs to take care of Sir Integra.  

He was sweating despite the cool, dank breeze that trained around this maze, his pulse sounded thunderous in his ears and his breathing was slow and heavy and deep. The priest stripped off his long coat as they walked, folding it over one arm, he loosened his collar.  The Crucifix that hung around his neck felt heavy and his boots felt as if they were caked with mud, leaden, his steps began to slow.  Further along, he had to stop and lean against the wall to rest, panting, and he could hear himself complaining of dizziness and where was that laughing coming from anyway?  He felt the floor drop from under his feet and saw it rush up to meet his face before he blacked out.


End file.
